Black Sheep
by Zsofix
Summary: Let's throw some of the worst losers of Literature and Film into even deeper trouble, than they usually are in, and see them try to get out of it!


**Black sheep****  
**by Fixa

So, I'll start it. Just to make things clear, this story is not about the Heroes. They've got enough of fan fiction, now's the time for the Losers. It does NOT include hot elven princes, Mary Sues, fluffy romance, but it does include a lot of confusion, madness, hopelessness, endless miles to walk, dangers to run away from, and, yes, a hint of slash.

Disclaimer: None of the main characters belong to me. The belong to Gaston Leroux, William Shakespeare/Tom Stoppard, Samuel Beckett, Kafka, Dostoyevsky, The Monty Python, Annie Proulx, Peter Beagle, Tomas S. Eliot, Gogol and Terry Pratchett.

**The curse**

Somewhere, in a far-fetched corner of Infinity, on the borderline of Dream and Reality stood an inn. How it appeared there, out of less than thin air, was a mystery that nobody cared to solve. Its customers – weary souls of dreaming humans and the most various creatures of Film and Literature - took its existence as granted.

The Drunken Bookworm – for that was its name - was a merry place, always packed with tipsy guests who chattered, played cards or fought with each other like any other drunkards. Warm, golden light filled the bar, smoke of cigar floated down from the gallery, where the characters of High Literature were seated. They never mingled with the common paperback-folk… Though, the 'common folk' had its own groups and clicks too: one for the Fantasy, one for Sci-Fi, one for modern-time stories, Westerns, Cartoons… Of course everyone preferred the company of people of the same kin. And, naturally, if groups appear, then so will the outcasts. It's all the same, wherever you go, and the Bookworm was no exception. There were a few characters whom nobody wanted or cared about at all. They entered, circled around hoping for a friendly face or simply a seat, finding neither. After a while they usually gave up and sat down in the gloomiest, dirtiest corner. There they sat, watching the bustling life around them enviously, not even noticing one another.

One of the guests of this certain corner was Akakij Akakievich, a grey little civil servant. He never drank anything, for he had no money for such a luxury, but he liked –well, as far as he could tell the difference of 'like' and 'dislike'- so, he liked to sit here. He usually brought along something to copy and, as a special treat, he entertained himself by watching the others around him. Of course he never dared dream of such a scandalous deed as to judge them, or God forbid, make an opinion about them, but slowly he built a humble impression of the most.

First of all, there was this little lady, Sonya Semjonovna who always seemed to be scared. And these men, two of them wearing really old-fashioned clothes and asking silly questions (their names were too long for him to remember, but one started with an 'R' and the other with 'G') and an other pair, Vladimir and Estragon, who were waiting for someone called Godot. Then the two strange fellows who wore pointed hats and called themselves wizards. Akakij always watched them with double interest, in case they did some magic but this never happened. They had long names too, Rincewind and Schmendrik. One of them had a big box on little feet. And there was yet another pair, two young cowboys who always came here together, and had nice short names: Jack and Ennis. Not all came in pairs, though… Akakij had often seen a skinny, frightened-looking man in dirty white clothes, Brian, he believed his name was. These were the humans, but the little clerk had also noticed an old talking cat and a giant cockroach in the company. First he'd found their presence surprising, even alarming, but one gets used to things like these… The one he was still worried about was actually a man, or at least humanoid. He was clad in black and always sat in the darkest shadow. He also wore a mask. No one ever spoke to him, yet everyone seemed to know him. He was Erik.

The little clerk sighed contentedly as he occupied his usual seat. The night was calm, and there was no warning, not a bit of mystic foreshadowing of the disastrous events he was meant to witness.

Things started to go wrong when Lucius Malfoy from the book 'Harry Potter' entered. Akakij didn't know him, and the look on the wizard's face told him it was quite well that way… Lucius settled at a nearby table, among some other black-clad men, and eyed the bunch of outcasts suspiciously. The clerk trembled at his stare, but then he turned to watch Rincewind, Schmendrik and Brian playing cards and forgot about the stranger.

The players themselves didn't even notice him; they were deeply engaged in conversation.

-I mean not everybody can see them; you must have some magic about you…

-Have you ever seen one?

-Ye gods, of course I have! Why do you think my story's called 'The last Unicorn'?

-Well, sorry, I didn't know that… I thought they only appear to young virgins… - muttered Brian awkwardly.

-Usually yes, but She needed my help….

-Let's not mix it up, _you_ needed _Her_ help!

-Well, tell the tale yourself, Rincewind, as you seem to know it better than I do – hissed Schmendrik – She needed a magician….

-…And all she got eventually was a second-rate pickpocket, as I recall… - said someone.

They all turned towards the speaker: it was Lucius.

- Since when do muggles have the right to call themselves wizards? – He asked coldly.

- Since when do you have the right to eavesdrop and mingle in my business? – Schmendrik retorted.

- I, unlike others, still respect magic.

- That's no answer. Anyway, what makes you think I don't?

- No self respecting wizard would be found in such a company! Just look around! Whores, lunatics, gay men, - at this a very angry Ennis jumped up – serial killers, and, worst of all, all muggles!

- Well – Rincewind muttered under his breath – we could talk about lunatic serial killers… I, for one, have your master in mind…

Lucius would've gone on, but at this point – having worked his way through a maze of chairs and tables – Ennis had reached him, grabbed his collard and whirled him around.

- Whom didya call gay?!

The wizard freed himself with a move of his wand. This - having never seen a magic wand in his life – surprised the cowboy so much he even forgot to break his opponent's nose. Lucius laughed coldly.

- How dare you think of attacking me, you miserable rat?!

That was too much, Jack jumped to his feet too. Lucius pinned him to the floor with a course and went on.

- You're no use; you don't even deserve to LIVE! None of you! – He shouted at the others.

- Just a moment there! – Snapped Guildenstern, rising from his table – We've never hurt you!

Lucius pretended not to have heard that. The voice of a worm like that shouldn't reach the ears of a Pureblood wizard…

- We may not be the liveliest and most useful bunch of characters – whispered Schmendrik as calmly as possible – But we do have our place under the Sun!

- Bah, really? Then prove it! The respectable guests of this inn could do without you lot for a while! – With that he raised his wand. Bluish white light filled the room… The Universe seemed to fold up in itself, then straighten with an inaudible moan. Silence lay on the inn like a soft, thick blanket. No one and nothing moved for a while.

Then something stirred in the corner. It was Akakij Akakievich. He raised his head sheepishly and looked around. The seats around him were all empty. He could hear Lucius laugh contentedly as the wizard walked back to his seat.

The others were gone.

* * *

Cast:

Akakij Akakievic: Civil sercant from the story The cloak. Prolerty of Gogol.

Sonya: Backstreet girl with a big hearth, a faithful Christian. From Crime and punishment. Property of Dostojevskij.

Gregor Samsa: Traveling agent, who once woke to be turned into a giant bug. From Metamorphosis, property of Franz Kafka.

Brian Cohen: An unlucky little man who can't stand Romans and is constantly mixed up with Jesus Christ. From the Life of Brian, Monthy Python.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern: Two minor characters from Hamlet, they struggle helplessly to figure out what the bloody hell's going on around them. They are constantly mixed up with each other.They belong to Shakespeare, but the one who gave them some life on their own was Tom Stoppard.

Vladimir and Estragon: They wait for Godot and they belong to Samuel Beckett.

Ennis Del Mar and Jack Twist: Two cowboys who happened to fall in love in the wrong pace and the wrong time. From the short-story Brokeback Mountain. Properties of Annie Proulx.

Guss the theate-cat: Was a real star in his prime, but all he has now are his memories... From a poem by T. S. Eliot.

Rincewind: A wizard with no magic and a bad spelling. About the most cowardly character in Literature, he's followed by the terrible Luggage. Property of Terry Pratchett and is from the Discworld serias.

Schmendrik: No better a wizard than Rincewind, but at least have some courage. Can't spell, neither. From The last Unicorn, by Peter Beagle.

Erik: The Phantom of the Opera. Ugly. Blood-thirsty. Mad. And an absolute genious. By Gaston Leroux.

Lucius Malfoy: Well, bad-ass from the Harry Potter books by J. K. Rowling.


End file.
